


Through The Window

by QuestionableGentleman



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Fluff, He likes blood, M/M, PWP, Ryan's a weird motherfucker, just miscellaneous third party blood, neither of their blood though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuestionableGentleman/pseuds/QuestionableGentleman
Summary: Jon is sleeping, and gets a rather pleasant surprise. Ryan is bored after a heist, and finds a way to entertain himself.-Somewhat a sequel to Informant and Don't Stop Me Now-





	Through The Window

Jon woke in the middle of the night with a start. Bewildered, he sat up, rubbing his face, wondering what had woken him up. He checked his phone for the time. 2:45 a.m. Sighing, he lay back down and closed his eyes, fully intending to go back to sleep. He shot back upright as there was a clatter from the kitchen. Now fully alert, all sleep gone from his system, Jon reached over to his bedside table, pulling out the handgun he kept there in case of emergencies. Like this one. 

The reporter got up slowly, trying not to make any noise as he snuck over to the bedroom door, pushing it open and peeking out into the hallway. His heart was pounding hard in his ears as he held the gun tight in one hand. Not seeing anyone, he made his way down towards the kitchen, and suddenly, he found himself face to face with a very familiar skull mask. 

Startled, Jon let out a yelp and fell backwards, but Ryan caught him with an uncomfortably tacky, gloved hand. Jon dropped his gun, staring up at the Vagabond, the fear on his face turning quickly to a confused annoyance. 

“Jesus Christ! Ryan! What the fuck?! What are you doing in my apartment?! How did you even get in here? How do you even know where I live?!” 

Ryan’s laugh was muffled by his mask. He reached up and pulled the dark grey skull off, letting his black hair fall around his painted face. “Oh, I was bored after our heist, so I decided I’d drop by for a visit. Geoff had your address in his records. And I got in here through the window.” 

Jon looked over at the window Ryan motioned to, seeing it open. He put a hand on his face, groaning. “Okay. Okay. You climbed up three stories and climbed in my window. Jesus…”

Jon shook his head a little, reaching over and flipping on the lights, not wanting to continue this conversation in the dark. He let out a little displeased noise as he looked back at Ryan. The killer was fairly drenched in half-dry blood, smeared across his leather jacket and making black spots on his dark jeans. 

“Motherfucker. That’s why your hand is all gross! Did you fucking leave a bloody handprint on me?!” Jon tried to look over his shoulder and twist around to see. 

“I absolutely left a bloody handprint on your back. It looks good on you.” Jon yelped as he was suddenly gathered up into Ryan’s arms and kissed. 

The kiss was good, Ryan’s stubble brushing against Jon’s jaw and making him a little weak in the knees, but he pushed him off, standing back and looking down at himself. Smears of dark blood streaked his bare torso and pajama pants. Ryan’s smug grin caught his attention, and Jon punched him in the arm. 

“You’re a dick! I have to go shower now. You need to shower too. You’re not touching me again until you’ve showered. You can shower with me if you want, but no touching until your hands aren’t disgusting.” Jon jumped backwards out of Ryan’s reach as the killer tried to pull him in again. 

“Awww, come on babe. You look good. You get used to the stickiness after a while,” said Ryan teasingly, following Jon down the hall to the bathroom. 

Jon pulled a face at him, smacking him on the arm again, before starting to undress. “What did you even do to get THAT much blood on you? Wait. No. Nevermind. Do not tell me.” 

Ryan just laughed, shrugging out of his leather jacket and letting it fall to the floor, following it quickly with his fitted shirt. Jon couldn’t help but stare. Despite having had sex with this man twice, Jon hadn’t seen him out of his clothes until now. Ryan was well built in the best way. Solid muscle with enough flesh over it to fill him out nicely. The Vagabond noticed his stare, and he grinned a little. 

“Like what you see?”

Jon nodded a little. “Yeah, yeah I like what I see. Why do you hide all that under the leather and mask? I’m pretty sure if you walked into a bank naked, they’d be so dazzled they’d just give you all the money you could ask for.” 

Ryan laughed, a genuine laugh. Not his usual dark cackle. “Maybe I’ll suggest that to the Crew for our next heist.”

“It’d definitely make for some great headlines.” Jon finally pulled his eyes away from Ryan, turning on the shower and getting in. He liked Ryan’s laugh. He liked his other laugh as well, the one that sent chills up his spine, but this one made him feel warm inside. 

Ryan got into the shower with him, watching the curves and planes of Jon’s pale back as he washed up. He scrubbed down as well, letting the spots of blood that had soaked through his clothes wash down the drain in crimson trails. Gently, he took the washcloth Jon was using, rubbing it in circles over the bloody handprint on his back, letting out a pleased hum as the red-tinged water slipped over his ass and down his thighs. 

Jon turned around to face him, gasping as he found himself being pushed up against the shower wall, Ryan’s mouth attacking his neck. A little surprised moan escaped his lips as Ryan’s teeth brushed his throat, and his tongue ran hot trails down his skin. His face paint had washed off, save for dark rings around his eyes. 

“Mmm… Jon. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Ever since the police chase last week, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. You’re perfect,” he murmured into the reporter’s skin. 

Jon’s cheeks flushed red, and he wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders, holding onto him. Ryan’s words melted him a little, and knowing they were coming from the man who was probably the most notorious killer in Los Santos made him melt even more. He pulled Ryan up into another deep kiss, not wanting to let him go. 

“God, Ryan. I can’t stop either,” murmured Jon against the Vagabond’s lips. “Not since the day in the warehouse. Thinking about you doing things to me…” 

Ryan pinned Jon to the wall with his bigger body, hands trailing up his sides and over his chest, pushing a thigh between the informant’s legs. “You have no idea what you do to me, Jon Risinger.” 

Jon’s breath hitched in his chest as he felt Ryan’s strong thigh pressed against him. The hot water raining down on them heightened all of the sensations Ryan was providing, all of the kisses to his neck and shoulder, and each roll of his muscular thigh against Jon’s hardening cock. Each motion drew a little noise out of the reporter, head tipping back with a soft thud against the shower wall. 

“Ry- Ryan. You’re driving me crazy,” he panted, running his fingers through the killer’s long hair. “Come on. Touch me.” 

A grin split the Vagabond’s face, and he suddenly flipped the water off, lifting Jon off his feet and carrying him bridal style out of the shower. Jon yelped and held onto his arm as he was carried briskly down the hall. 

“Do you have to carry me everywhere?! I can walk! Also we’re both soaked, and getting water all over the floor!” 

“Well, you told me that if I wanted to fuck you again, it had to be on a bed,” teased Ryan, tossing Jon down onto his bed, crawling over him, a mischievous grin playing along his lips. “And I’m not in the mood to wait for you to be done washing your pretty hair.” 

“Fine, fine. But you’re going to mop up the water once we’re- Oh!” Jon’s sentence was cut off by a moan as Ryan’s hand wrapped around his cock and stroked him slowly. He shuddered, gripping the sheets beneath him as pleasure shot up through him. 

Ryan leaned in to kiss and suck at the joint of Jon’s neck and shoulder, wanting to mark  
him up. Show the world that Jon belonged to him. He stroked him languidly, feeling the reporter’s muscles tense up, loving the moans that dripped from his lips. He let his kisses trail down Jon’s chest, stopping to lick and nip gently at one of the pert nipples there. The sound it pulled out of the informant was like an aphrodisiac. 

Jon sucked in a surprised breath as he was suddenly flipped over onto his belly. Ryan’s hands ran over the planes and curves of his back, kisses trailing down his spine. “Ryan… Ryan you’re such a tease.” 

“Mmmhm. I was a little rough with you the last two times. I want to make you feel good this go,” he murmured, kissing Jon’s shoulder blade gently. 

Jon shivered slightly, cheeks pinking at the words. He glanced over his shoulder at Ryan. There was an unusually loving look in the man’s clear blue eyes. He rolled back over, pulling the killer into a kiss and wrapping his arms around him. 

“Who knew there was a big softie under all that mask and paint,” he murmured against his lips. 

“Shhh. Don’t tell anyone,” teased Ryan, nipping his lower lip gently, holding him close against his larger body. 

“But really, if you don’t get on with at least touching me, I’m going to roll us over and ride you,” said Jon, running his hands down Ryan’s back. “You got me all excited, and now you better keep going.” 

Ryan grinned, pressing Jon back down into the pillows and kissing him deeply. He kissed him again deeply, grinding his hips slowly against him, a low groan escaping as his thick cock rubbed against Jon’s. Little, breathy noises escaped the reporter, and he broke the kiss to breathe, head tipping back. 

Ryan dragged meltingly hot kisses down Jon’s neck, hips rolling like a slow tide. Jon’s fingers tangled in the sheets, head thrown back and wet hair splayed across his pillow. A whole-body shudder ran through him as the killer lifted his hips, propping them up on his thighs as he situated himself between Jon’s legs. Ryan’s hands slid up Jon’s thighs, smoothing over the pale skin, calloused thumbs rubbing into the supple flesh. 

“Do you have lube?” asked Ryan, voice husky and heavy in Jon’s ear. 

“Mhm. Nightstand drawer,” managed Jon after a moment, brain trying to keep up with the rest of his body. 

Ryan reached over and grabbed the half empty bottle, settling himself back between his lover’s thighs. Two slick fingers rubbed slowly over Jon’s entrance, making him shudder and moan, back arching up and fingers tightening in the sheets. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Ryan murmured, slowly pressing a finger into the reporter. 

Jon gazed up at him, breathing heavily. The lustful look in Ryan’s eyes and the little smile on his face turned him to molten rubber, hips rolling slowly against the finger inside him. When Ryan slowly rubbed up against his prostate, Jon’s whole body arched, a cry dragged from his throat. 

Ryan took his time in prepping Jon, one finger eventually becoming two, and then three. He hit that sweet spot he knew would drive Jon crazy with each thrust, until the reporter was falling apart under him, begging him for more. He pulled his fingers out, leaning up and capturing Jon’s soft lips in a deep kiss. 

Jon whined a little at the loss of stimulation, rocking his hips down against Ryan’s cock as he kissed him. He wrapped his arms up over his shoulders, holding on tight as he felt his lover position himself, slowly starting to push in. The stretch was wonderful, turning the reporter’s legs to jello, his vision blurring as Ryan bottomed out. 

The Vagabond’s breath was hot against Jon’s ear as he let him adjust, though it took all his willpower to not just start ravishing him. He started slow. Deep rolls of his hips connecting with Jon’s, and deep moans escaping his lips. Jon was tight and hot and each thrust was faster than the last as Ryan’s willpower slipped. 

Jon held onto Ryan’s shoulders like he was drowning and the killer was a lifeline. Every thrust had him seeing stars and he knew he wouldn’t last long like this. The bed creaked under him as Ryan’s movements sped up, and moans and huffs were driven from Jon to join it’s noise. He pulled a hand down, slipping it between them, shuddering as he started to stroke himself. Ryan’s movements became more erratic, and he leaned down to kiss Jon deeply, one hand moving to wrap around the reporter’s, stroking him quickly, wanting to see him fall apart. 

It didn’t take long before Jon broke down, vision blurring, back arching and taut like a bowstring, thighs trembling as he came over Ryan’s hand, a loud cry of the Vagabond’s name escaping him. He panted heavily as he came down from his high, groaning as Ryan continued to thrust into him. The overstimulation sent shocks of almost-painful pleasure up his body, and he held on tight to Ryan. 

Ryan didn’t last much longer, only a few more thrusts before he was spilling inside Jon with a low groan, holding him tight. Slowly, he pulled back, laying down next to him and catching his breath. Jon rolled onto his side slowly to look at Ryan, settling up against him. 

“You’re amazing,” said Jon, still out of breath, leaning over to kiss Ryan again. 

“Mmm.. not nearly as amazing as you. That was totally worth climbing three stories to get in your window, and then covering you in blood,” said Ryan with a little chuckle. 

Jon wrinkled his nose and swatted his arm. “Super romantic. And about that! If we’re going to do this relationship, we’re going to do it at least somewhat like normal people!” 

Ryan propped himself up on his elbow to look at him properly. “Oh? What do you mean by that?” 

“What I mean is, we’re going to swap numbers, and text. Or call. Whatever you want. And you’re going to tell me when you want to meet instead of just rolling up on me and nearly giving me a heart attack. I can give you a key to the apartment if you really want to just… show up. I’d rather not have the cops showing up here because someone sees you climbing in my window. Also you still owe me a real date.” 

Ryan smiled and pulled him into a soft kiss. “Well, I can take you out anywhere you want. Whenever you want. And we can definitely swap numbers.” 

“Good. I really am not interested in being a ‘friend with benefits’.” 

“Well, I’m not interested in having you as a friend with benefli- benefits.” Ryan corrected himself quickly, but Jon still picked up on the flub, laughing. 

“Beneflits?” the reporter cackled, flopping down on top of Ryan. 

“Shut up, Risinger.” Ryan was laughing as well, wrapping his arms around Jon. “You’re going to be my boyfriend. You’re going to have to deal with all of my word-flubs.” 

“I’m pretty sure I can handle that.”

**Author's Note:**

> This one has all the fluff the other two didn't. I'm not sorry. Also there's not nearly enough of Ryan not being able to talk good in fics. So here you go. 
> 
> Song of the Fic: "Jolene" by Dolly Parton, slowed down to 33 RPM.


End file.
